It is a sacred moment when we get pulled "out of ourselves" and get reminded of things that we have let drift past our conscious awareness. To me, the film "The Impossible" did that, very piercingly today. It reminded me of what it means to be human. What is a life built on, exactly? When we take away the societal structures and familiar surroundings and the comforts of technology... what are we left with? What drives us, occupies our thoughts, makes us live another hour? When everything is taken away, when the numbing effect of our daily routine is shattered, we are reminded that we want very basic things. We desire food, we desire health and safety. But the strongest desire of all is to be with those we love, to know the answers to: "Are they safe?" "Do they have food?" and "Are they healthy?" I say I love my family (And--don't worry, I asked them--they know I do). But when I watched the clip below--a father desperate to find out if his wife and child are alive--it really made me question what I say I believe. I was living across the country from them the last two years. I barely called them once a month. Maybe I'd forward them an email I thought was interesting more often than that... but what does that show? What does lovereally mean? What really is most important to me? I was pulled out of myself and chose to ask myself these and other difficult questions. For those that know me, you tire of hearing me say the words that something "changed my life." But I promise you I mean it, every time. And this movie changed my life. I hope I remember, for longer this time, that love, true love, really comes from a focus outside of self and agenuineconcern for othersabove self. And I want that feeling back. I want to love so fully and so deeply that I can barely get the words out. I don't want to drift to the point that something external has to shake me into caring to inquire, "Are they safe?" "Are they healthy?"

I havea lot of heroes. But this past week I had the singular honor to witness a friend of mine make what is likely the most important promise of his life: the commitment of marriage. Any outside observer would probably have seen the event as a simple ceremony, nothing too remarkable stood out. Marriages happen every day, after all. But my friend didn’t become one of my heroes because he does things like everyone else. To the perceptive observer, one could have seen enough in that simple ceremony to inspire awe and renewed reverence for the tender mercies of life—the small miracles we all have the privilege to participate in. In that ceremony, I was witness to examples of three such miracles. These were: The miracle of patience, the miracle of love, and the miracle of perspective. A Miracle of Patience My friend is one of those people who, even if you only talk to him briefly, strikes you as someone who has figured some things out about life. You can tell he asks deep questions and has paid thetruth-seeker’s priceto find real answers, and then passionately applies truth once he has discovered it. In spite of his virtuous life, however, his righteous desire to wed has been fraught with frustration and disappointment. Yet, despite absolutely justifiable reasons to doubt and reject the promises of living the Gospel, my friend understood that patience—true patience—is not “shoulder-shrugging resignation” but rather “obedience prolonged” (Neal A. Maxwell, “Patience,” BYU Devotional, 27 November 1979). The very fact that he made it to this day with a smile on his face and genuine faith in his eyes was enough to warrant tear-filled admiration from me, and a choir’s tribute from heaven above(which, I’m not entirely sure didn’t happen, after hearing his wife sing to him as part of the program). I witnessed a miracle. A miracle of patience. A Miracle of Love My friend and his new wife had “the glow.” It was readily seen that they were united, happy, and excited for this day. Their love could be seen and felt by all who were present. Yet, underneath the surface of their love for one another, was something even stronger. Their love was not rooted in infatuation, mutual fulfillment, or even sexual desire—as good and necessary as those things are to marriage. The miracle I witnessed that day was a love rooted in a complete and utter giving of themselves individually and as a couple to Jesus Christ. They made a promise to us, each other, and God, that they would “keep their eyes foremost on the Savior.” It is one of the inexplicable but completely fitting puzzles of the gospel: outward love grows when our inward life looks to Christ above all else. It was a miracle. A miracle of love. A Miracle of Perspective My friend tries to be purposeful and thoughtful in what he does. He looks at the bigger picture—outside himself, reverencing the past, and looking toward the future. At a time when all the attention was on him (indeed, we live in a society that preaches that life is “all about you”), one of the first things he wanted acknowledged was his gratitude for the influence and help of others. With heart-filled emotion he said that, “our lives are largely the result of those that touched ours.” In the same vein, he had sewn into his suit coat 4th Nephi 1: 11, “And they were married, and given in marriage, and were blessed according to the multitude of the promises which the Lord had made unto them.” After the ceremony, my friend confided in me that he had this scripture sewn on, not because of the promises he and his wife personally looked forward to, but rather to remind them that the multitude of promises also includes promises made to those that came before and those that will come after. They had at the forefront of their mind that their children’s lives are primarily determined by how they, as parents, live up to the promises they made with God. And they do not take those promises lightly. It was a miracle. A miracle of perspective. Thanks, man. Thanks for being “an example of the believers” (1 Tim. 4:12) and for reminding me what it means to live deliberately. It has had more of an effect on me—and so many others—than you know.

This was the perfect Sunday read and kept me enthralled for weeks. A must-read in my opinion. Brother Hafen has insights to life and marriage that are remarkably deep and complex... yet summarized and presented in very simple, natural way. ...

This is a great read! Gary Chapman has a deep, experienced lens through which the reader can see relationships on an entirely different level. His recommendations are extremely practical and the framework he gives--that everyone has a "...

This book further cements my bias to rarely pick up a book without looking at reviews first. The table of contents looked promising--How to Deal with Conversation Predicaments, How to Keep Any Conversation Going, How to Graciously Stop A Co...